To Fix This Mind
by Dance Elle Dance
Summary: "You think you know what I've gone through...you have no idea, Bukowski." The survivors of the mutant attacks meet in a government-mandated therapy program, and Doug and Missy find each other in the process. DougMissy, NapoleonAmber, DelmarBrenda, and others, post-movie, AU
1. 3:00 Group Session Here

_**Disclaimer: **__I don't own The Hills Have Eyes._

_**Summary: "You think you know what I've gone through...you have no idea, Bukowski." The survivors of the mutant attacks meet in a government-mandated therapy program, and Doug and Missy find each other in the process. DougMissy, NapoleonAmber, DelmarBrenda, and others, post-movie, AU**_

_Well, this idea has been a long time coming. I don't know why, but this idea just won't leave me. And I have finally started it, which is more than I can say for other projects. Okay, so, this was supposed to be a oneshot, but then I found that I kind of wanted to try something different. I'm going to do short chapters, kind of like segments in some of my really long oneshots - except those segments would be slightly longer (in some cases), of course. I just found that, when I was writing, it didn't feel like a oneshot since each segment was so long and it didn't feel right to cut them so short because there was so much to say. So I've gotten this idea. Short little chapters with relatively quick updates, at least compared to my other fics, and at least until school starts back. I figure it would be an interesting change from how I usually write. The chapters will vary in length, but none will be epic-length or anything like that. Kind of like a...flash-fic? I think I've heard that term used before. So, after that ridiculously long AN, I do hope that y'all enjoy this fic of mine! _

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**To Fix This Mind  
Chapter One: 3:00 Group Session Here**

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Doug Bukowski gave a sigh as he stood in front of the door that would lead to - he was sure with great certainty - something completely and utterly unnecessary.

The place itself had a very government feel to it. From the outside, the building had looked as if it had been made by someone with a very utilitarian sense of style. He wouldn't have expected anything less, but still. It was kind of unnerving to see something like that in an otherwise cheery area, albeit a bit secluded.

Now that he thought about it, it kind of looked like a bunker.

Fighting a shudder, he continued to stare at the door in front of him. There was nothing overt that would distinguish it from any other door in this particular hallway, except the piece of paper taped to it that read, simply, "3:00 Group Session Here."

Doug wasn't sure of the purpose of the sign. The people who had tried to call him - and when he ignored their calls because they sounded very _official_ when he first answered the phone, actually showed up at his doorstep and demanded him to go to this stupid therapy session - had specified which room number, the address, etc. He wondered if anyone was completely stupid as to not know where the room numbers were located, above the door -

"Where's the _fucking _room?"

If Doug wasn't so put out by the whole situation, he would have laughed. Instead, he turned his head to the voice and saw two men walking side-by-side - one complaining about where the room was and the other shaking his head slightly in exasperation. Just by looking at the two of them, Doug deemed them close friends.

They were about to walk past him, and Doug figured it would make him look like a dick later if he didn't at least say something, so he found himself calling out, "You here for the three o'clock session?"

He realized too late that there could have been other "three o'clock" sessions here, but he honestly wasn't sure how to finish that sentence without sounding three kinds of insane.

One of the men looked at him strangely, his eyebrows knitting together as he stepped toward him. "About Sector 16?"

The question, while innocent and called for, caused a shiver to crawl down Doug's spine, like it did every time someone even hinted at the incident.

"Yeah," he replied, trying not to sound like he was drowning.

"Yeah, we're here for that," the other, more volatile-seeming man spoke up. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Someone who has experience in that area," Doug replied, unconcerned with keeping the edge out of his voice. He was tired - damn tired, if he was honest with himself - and unconcerned with pleasantries.

Doug ran a hand through his hair as he moved out of the way for the two men to get past him. The more outspoken of the two stopped in front of him, gave him a glare, and said, "Are you the therapist?"

He found himself laughing in response. "Why would you ask that?"

"You look like the type of jackass that would be a shrink," he said. "But you're not?"

Doug chuckled louder - the sound felt weird as it rumbled through is wiry frame. "I'm not."

The man nodded curtly and then disappeared into the room.

Without further preamble, Doug followed.

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_**End Chapter One.**_


	2. Dark, Haunted Eyes

_**Disclaimer: **__I don't own The Hills Have Eyes._

_Thanks so much to **krikanalo** and **Berry's Ambitions** for their reviews for the first chapter! Means a lot that people are digging this so far. Well, here's the latest installment! Hope y'all enjoy! _

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**To Fix This Mind  
Chapter Two: Dark, Haunted Eyes**

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The room was a small one, he realized as his eyes raked over the place, taking in the muted colors - calm and nondescript - and the circular arrangement of chairs in the center of the room. Though seemingly designed for people to open up about themselves, Doug felt the whole thing was a little _too _open for his tastes. Even before he took his seat, he felt like he was exposed to the nerves.

The two men from before sat beside each other, next to another couple - or, at least, what he thought looked like a couple - that consisted of a pretty girl with shockingly red hair and a thin, dark-haired man.

"Hey, Napoleon," the kinder of the men said, extending a hand.

The lanky man - Napoleon - shook this man's hand, saying, "Delmar."

While the two started to chit-chat, the girl ran a hand through her hair and inhaled shakily. Doug tried not to stare for too long at the group of young people as he squeezed between two of the chairs and took a seat on the complete opposite side of the circle as the others.

He glanced at his watch. Both Brenda and Bobby were running late. He didn't blame them at all, of course, but it was a tad bit odd sitting across from four other people with nothing to do but twiddle his thumbs. He looked down at his hands, noting how they were now asymmetrical - two fingers missing from one hand. He still hadn't gotten used to seeing his hand that way, a physical reminder of the time he spent in the desert.

It suddenly seemed very chilly in the room.

"Doug?"

He started, looking over his shoulder at Brenda, who was gazing softly down at him. Bobby stood next to her, looking vaguely like a frightened sheep. Doug rose as Brenda and Bobby squeezed through the chairs to sit beside him. Sitting back down, Doug only vaguely noticed the other set of people as they studied the two new additions to the group.

"Catherine's downstairs?" he asked, a hint of nervousness to his voice. Even now, when he knew she was safe, it set him on edge to be apart from her for even a minute.

Brenda nodded. "Yeah, in the day care area."

"And the squirt?"

A fond smile fell over her face. "She's with her."

"Really considerate of them to provide day care for the kids while we're in the meeting."

Doug could practically hear the roll of Bobby's eyes. "Yeah. _Considerate_."

Brenda jabbed Bobby with her elbow.

Just before Bobby could say something in response, the door opened behind them. Doug didn't feel the need to turn around, but he saw that a few people did.

"Good afternoon, everyone," a soft, calm, feminine voice rang out in greeting. The door shut behind her, and after that it was silent - not even her shoes made a sound as she made to the chair that sat as a masthead, splitting the two sides of the circle into the group of Doug and his family, and the others who clearly knew each other.

_Two separate events, maybe, _Doug pondered.

His thoughts were cut short, however, when the woman spoke. "I am glad that you all have come," she announced.

"Not that we had a choice," came the muttered retort from the outgoing man from before.

Not perturbed in the slightest, the woman continued. "I'm Dr. Riley. But please call me Henry."

"...Henry?" the tone of disbelief was overt in Napoleon's voice.

"Henrietta can be a mouthful," she said warmly, but not without mirth.

Henry wasn't the typical psychiatrist - or psychologist. Whatever she was. Doug always got the two confused. She was dressed somewhat casually, wearing a nice pair of slacks paired with a bright blue blouse that set off the icy blue of her eyes. Black hair waved softly over one shoulder in a side-ponytail. On her feet were a pair of ratty looking black converses.

Looking at those old shoes, paired with an otherwise flawless appearance, gave Doug a sense of comfort.

"Alright," she started. She set her purse on the floor by her feet and looked at each of them. "I'd like to start by introducing myself. Obviously, my name is Henry. I enjoy playing tennis and volunteering at the local animal shelter. I also like to dabble in various Xbox games - "

"What are you trying to do, _Henry_?" the outgoing man snarled. "Introduce yourself to make us feel _comfortable_? Like you're just the same as all of us. That's fucking ridiculous. You don't know what we went through." He gestured grandly to his set of friends on his side of the circle, before jabbing his index finger in Doug's direction. "I don't even know those fucking people, but if they went through the same shit we did, then you don't know anything about them either."

"I am just - "

"No!" he shouted. "I'm not listening to a damn word you want to say. I don't even know why I'm here - "

Doug thought he heard the door creak open, but didn't look to see who it was. He was too focused on this train wreck going on in front of him. Henry, to her credit, looked unphased by the volatile man's outburst. She looked poised, her legs crossed, with her hands clasped together over one knee. Though, as soon as she looked up at the door, Doug knew he had heard correctly.

He turned around in that moment and was met with the dark, haunted eyes of a women, her equally dark hair hanging freely around her face. She wore baggy clothes that hid what he figured was a small frame. Despite her appearance, he found himself entranced by her all the same.

Doug had heard about events that were able to suck all the oxygen from the room.

He just hadn't experienced one of those until now.

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_**End Chapter Two.**_


End file.
